


your fingertips across my skin

by rewrittengirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hook drawing Bae, M/M, Milah's drawing, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rewrittengirl/pseuds/rewrittengirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>... the palm trees swaying in the wind... images... </em>
</p><p>Baelfire convinces Killian to draw him, in exchange for letting Bae draw Killian. The images that result are painful for both to see...</p>
            </blockquote>





	your fingertips across my skin

**Author's Note:**

> Another little oneshot for all you Hookfire shippers. Hope you enjoy. <3 The next chapter of my fic should be coming to you soon.

Killian awoke to sunlight through the windows of the captain’s quarters.

He draped his left arm-- currently hookless-- across his eyes to block the light, groaning after an uncomfortable sleep. His other hand reached around the bed beside him, for the other warm body that usually occupied it at night.

“Bae?” he muttered, rubbing his mouth and yawning.

“Yes, Captain?”

The elder turned his head under his arm and squinted, eyes still adjusting to the light. As they grew accustomed again, they saw Baelfire.

On the floor.

Wearing nothing but his old robe.

One of his legs was bent in an arch, and the one nearest to Killian was propped upon it. The red robe was slipping down those legs and pooling a bit to the floor. This was the first thing Killian saw and smiled at, but his eyes continued to roam his young lover’s form. Yes, the dressing gown was barely covering his chest, tied loosely around his waist where it was drooping. That chest was exposed in the sunlight, and the sight of it made Killian ache. Temptation gripped him-- the need to trace the back of his hook along the delicate skin was powerful. As if by instinct his entire body inched closer to the side of the bed, as if to get a better view. As he looked up, his heart beat faster...  The boy’s hair was tousled alluringly, and his porcelain face was focused intently on--

Killian lifted his arm and head, his eyes narrowing. “What do you have there?” His entire body tensed, dismayed that his trance was broken, but highly more concerned with the book Baelfire held in his hands. “Where did you get that?”

Bae looked up, his previous smile fading as he heard the Captain’s tone of voice. It was one the lad probably knew all too well, especially from the times before their courtship. “I found it,” the boy said quickly. He held the notebook closer to his chest, but his eyes were determined.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Killian rose from the bed and took it from him, closing it and placing it on the highest shelf he could find. He began to dress calmly, staring at the floor where the rest of Bae’s clothes lay, but really seeing nothing. “Those are not meant for anyone’s eyes.”

 _‘They’re not meant for your eyes, Bae,’_ he did not say. He knew the boy had not arrived at the furthermost pages, judging just from his place in the book. He had not seen... not _yet_ anyway.

“They’re yours, aren’t they?” Baelfire said as he stood, pulling his robe tighter around him. The boy’s light fingers touched Killian’s forearm, as he looked up to him with puzzled but interested eyes. “Why don’t you want me to see them?”

Killian wanted to look away, but Baelfire’s sincere gaze compelled him. His mouth tightened as he continued to button his vest. “Because they’re none of your business, lad,” he said with a sniff. He broke their fixation and sauntered to his small bedside table, picking up his discarded hook and locking it into place on his left arm.

He felt Bae still looking at him with inquisitive eyes. Aye, he’d done it this time. The boy’s curiosity would get the best of him, and he’d never hear the end of it. Not until he knew the story... Or got to look at the book again.

“Is it because you can’t draw anymore?”

This made Killian pause. He sighed, but smirked, lifting his dark coat from its peg and slipping it on. “Perceptive, love. But then I would expect nothing less from you, Bae.”

Bae grinned briefly, but his eyes were still full of sadness and concern. He reached his hand and pulled Killian gently by his hook toward him. “I didn’t know you were left handed… before this.”

The captain smiled softly, wanting Bae to know that it was alright, that it didn’t matter. “How could you?”

With his good hand Killian caressed Bae’s hair and started to move past him. “I can draw too, you know,” the boy said to stop him, and it did. Hook turned his head to look down at Bae, his eyebrow raising just so.

“Can you now?” he said, a grin making its way on his face.

Baelfire blushed a little, rubbing his elbow in a nervous gesture. “My papa always said that I got it from my mother…” he said with a shrug.

Killian’s lips closed as his breath hitched. If the boy noticed, he didn’t make mention of it. The pirate’s eyes flickered back to the notebook on the shelf. _‘Aye…’_ he thought numbly. _‘I know you did.’_

“I’m sure you did,” he said instead. “I got it from my mother as well.”

It was the first time in a long time Killian had thought or mentioned his mother… And what he said wasn’t a lie. It was just one of those things that made him feel closer to his Baelfire.

Bae smiled wide, and Killian’s heart skipped a beat. The boy took his good hand and wrapped it around his body, looking up to him. “You think you could try it again with this hand?” he asked, entwining Killian’s fingers with his own.

The captain smiled softly at Bae’s caring optimism. “I don’t know… maybe. I hadn’t cared to before.”

“How about…” Baelfire began, pursing his lips in thought. “I’ll draw you if you draw _me_. Deal?”

Now Killian’s eyebrow raised in bewilderment, not question. He had often thought about drawing Bae, but he’d only been able to learn to sword fight, hold a pistol, and scribble in his notes since he lost his hand. Actually drawing again was an entirely different undertaking. “Lad, I don’t think…”

“I won’t take no for an answer,” he replied, drifting away from Killian and beginning to dress himself. “How do you know that you can’t do it if you haven’t tried?”

Killian huffed a laugh, rotating his hook in the sunlight. It had been so long… since Bae’s mother died in fact, that he’d held a bit of charcoal in his hands and drawn. He would often draw his crew, the curves of his ship, or the way the birds flew across the sky to an unknown shore at noon, the sun high in the sky. Once he’d drawn a mermaid, covered in seaweed but still a sight to behold. And at the end of that sketchbook… picture upon picture of _Milah._

The boy was right, though… Bae was always right about these things.

“Alright… I’ll do it.”

Bae looked up, his hair a little askew from getting dressed in a rush, like he always did. After a short stunned look, he grinned from cheek to cheek.

“Get the parchment and charcoal from my desk, second drawer on the right,” he told him as he began to leave his quarters. “Then meet me on deck.”

Before he could take another step further, Bae had rushed past him with such eagerness. The captain shook his head with a loud chuckle, a grin wider than Baelfire’s on his own face, and made his way to the quarterdeck.

* * *

The boy’s gaze shifted from the sheet of parchment to Killian’s face periodically, but he had not yet made a stroke of charcoal. Neither had Killian, though that was more due to Bae’s face suspended in concentration.

“Are you going to start drawing, lad, or are you just going to sit there staring at the page till I magically appear?”

Bae’s intense focus broke, and he blinked rapidly as if the sun was only just now getting in his eyes. “I’m just… waiting for you…” he laughed nervously, his hand still hovering over the blank page.

Killian sighed, shifting his crossed legs and lounging his hooked arm on the chair. “Have you ever drawn a person before, Bae?”

His lover’s eyes were cast down to the floor, his face heating in an embarrassed blush.

“I thought it’d be easier… You did it so well in your sketchbook.”

The captain’s eyes softened, and he leaned forward a little, dragging his chair closer to Bae’s to talk more intimately. “I’ve also had years of experience…” he said, though that only made the boy’s face drop even further. He sighed again. “But I’ll tell you what…  It’s not about knowing what you’re doing, Bae… It’s not about being an expert or having technique.”

Baelfire looked up and swallowed. “It’s not?”

Killian leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “No… It’s about connecting with what you’re drawing. It’s about… _feeling_ it, in your gut. You’ve got to stop having second thoughts, mate. Just relax and have at it, aye?”

The little pep talk seemed to do the trick. Bae smiled softly and nodded. “Aye,” he agreed, and took a deep breath. Finally, he started sketching.

Meanwhile, Hook took a look at his own blank page. He feigned a calm expression so that Bae could more easily capture his likeness, but his own inhibitions were catching up with him. It had just been _so long_. And the last thing Killian had ever drawn, before he lost his hand…

He, too, took a deep breath, and looked at Bae again. The boy was in the ideal position, sunlight resting perfectly on his hair and face. That face was in intense focus again, and his eyes flickered and caught Killian’s every few seconds, so the captain smiled for him a little. When he drew, Bae’s upper lip curled inward and his tongue stuck out a little. God, the boy reminded him so much of his mother.

It was the last thing she’d done, as well. She’d just finished drawing him the day the Crocodile ripped out her heart, and afterward he kept the page stored in his safe with his other most precious belongings. It was only fitting that he be repeating the past now with her son…

Swallowing his pride, Killian began to draw.

It was difficult at first, most definitely. Bae had yet to rip a page in frustration and start over, and not five minutes had passed that Killian crumpled his first draft and tossed it aside. Bae didn’t flinch, nor did he make remarks or laugh at him. The boy was too kind… He started again, beginning with his dark hair and trying to capture the way it whipped softly in the wind. He pressed too hard with the charcoal, and it crackled slightly at the end. Killian groaned softly, blowing the bits from the sheet and watching them swirl in the breeze.

Killian looked down when he felt something knock his foot. It was the boy, his own foot gently nudging it in a loving manner. The captain caught his breath, and Bae began humming softly, a tune he sometimes hummed when they were falling asleep.

“What is that?” Killian asked, referring to the song. He returned the gesture by sliding his foot closer to Bae and locking their ankles.

“Hmm?” Bae mumbled, looking up and brushing the hair from his eyes. “What is what?”

“That song you’re always humming, lad… I’ve heard it before.”

Baelfire shrugged, smiling a little awkwardly. “It’s just something I remember my mother singing me to sleep, or when I was sad. I… hum it whenever I draw…”

Killian smiled too, softly. Ah, so that’s where he’d heard it before… Milah had done the same.

_“Why don’t you follow your own advice, Captain?”_

It was her voice… In death even Milah could state the obvious and he’d be quick to listen. Follow his own advice, eh…

He said no more, and looked back down at the page. He heard Bae resume his strokes, and Killian himself was resolved.

The captain let his hand move with the feeling of the wind against their faces. He twisted the charcoal when Bae shifted in his seat, and he feathered his hair lightly when Bae brushed the real thing again to the side. Despite the image lacking the expertise he’d once been able to master on any page, it was no time when another Bae was looking softly to the side, his lip sticking out in that genetic concentration.

Finally, after signing his initials near Bae’s hands in the drawing, he looked up with more open, less focused eyes, and saw the boy staring at him, smiling wide.

Killian raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Bae laughed, tilting his head. “I’ve been finished for a few minutes… You really get into it, don’t you?”

The captain rolled his eyes and sighed. “Well, are you going to show me what you’ve done, boy?”

Bae raised his own eyebrow and held out his hand. “You first.”

Grimacing, Killian looked down at the drawing. “Cheeky little…” he grumbled. He didn’t want to hand it over… Did it actually look like Bae, or was it just his imagination? What would he say about it? _Why was Captain Hook even being self-conscious?_

Without another self-deprecating look he handed Bae the drawing and took the boy’s from his hands, turning it over before he could stop himself.

Killian wasn’t sure what to expect. He wasn’t aware at all of the level of drawing skills the boy possessed, and he also wasn’t sure how much of the talent he’d inherited from his mother… But he was definitely taken by surprise.

Baelfire wasn’t lying when he said he could draw.

It wasn’t perfect, no, but looking at it, he realized that was Bae’s intention. He looked at a three-quarters profile of himself, his head tilted with as much concentration Bae had had, if not more. The strokes weren’t thin or precise, and they weren’t always clean and smooth… but Bae had a talent all his own.

“Bae, this is… this is really quite good,” he said quietly, but from Bae he heard a quick intake of breath. He looked up.

The boy was staring, not with critical eyes, but astonished ones. He glanced up to Killian again and again, as if he was unsure that was really him on the page. “This… is me?”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “Well… I mean I told you lad, I haven’t drawn since I acquired this hook…” He hated it… God, why had he agreed to this at all?

Bae leaned back, his hands running along the parchment in wonder. “I didn’t… I haven’t… Looked in a mirror in years…”

The captain sat back as well, stunned in his own right. “What? Not since you were young?”

He shook his head, swallowing hard. “No… The last time I did… I thought I looked just like my father…”

Killian’s breathing caught in his throat. “Oh…” he sighed. “I see…”

 _“How could you ever think that, Bae?”_ he wanted to say. _“You look nothing like that monster… you look just like your mother…”_

Baelfire handed the image back to Hook, but the man wouldn’t take it. “No… Keep it.”

The boy tilted his head. “But why would I need a picture of myself?”

Killian searched the boy’s face for a sign of understanding, but he was truly confused. “Because, Bae. That’s how I see you.”

Baelfire gazed at him with such adoration at that moment. Suddenly, words floated through his mind that he’d only said once before...

“But I’m not… I’m not…”

“Beautiful?” Killian supplied, and Bae sighed and looked defeated.

“I’ve spent so much time running from things… I haven’t even looked at myself in years…”

He should tell him… Killian licked his lips, the words settling on his tongue, wanting to come out but failing to do so. His fears kept them stuck in his chest. What would Baelfire say back? Did he feel the same way Killian felt about him?

“You give yourself so little credit, love,” he said, the last word sounding funny in his throat. All this time, his little confident Bae was just trying to hide how ashamed he was of his past… “Your past doesn’t define you.”

As soon as he said the words, Killian recalled every aspect of his own life in quick motion… His brother, his father, his mother and his lovers… Milah and his crew, Rumplestiltskin taking from him the life he’d thought he’d always have. But now…

The boy was a picture of sadness. Ever so slightly, Killian inched forward.

“I lo--”

“Captain!”

Hook groaned. “What is it Mister Smee?!” he shouted, clearly annoyed that he was interrupted. He glanced at Bae, who quickly took his own drawing from Hook and headed swiftly to the cabin. Killian looked after him and stood. “Bae, don’t…”

Were those tears in the boy’s eyes? Why was he crying? What had he said?

What _hadn’t_ he said?

At any rate, even if Killian tried to knock and apologize, or ask him what was wrong, or whatever he needed, Bae probably wouldn’t answer until he was ready. He was just like his mother in that sense… Neither of them had ever liked to be seen as weak.

Relying solely on his trust in Bae, Hook decided to leave him alone… for now. “Captain!” Smee called out again, and the pirate rolled his eyes. It didn’t sound particularly urgent, but he was nonetheless seeking him. Killian looked out at the see and rubbed his forehead in frustration. His first mate came up behind him.

“Captain, why is Baelfire still aboard the _Jolly Roger_?”

* * *

 

 _“I loved you, Baelfire,”_ Killian whispered.

His gaze never lingered from the image. He swirled the brandy in its glass and downed the last drops, then poured some more. The candle lit Bae’s face on the parchment just like the sunlight had that morning… It seemed years ago that they drew each other under a sky so blue…

But everything happened so fast, and suddenly he was gone.

He begged him, he’d pleaded with him to stay. He would have given anything if Bae had just stayed and let him explain, made him know that he always loved his mother… that he just wanted a family of his own…

He downed the gold liquid again, and threaded harsh fingers through his hair. He leaned on the desk and didn’t stop looking…

How could he have made such a careless mistake? He had thought he was protecting Bae from the pain by taking the sketchbook away from him. How could he have forgotten that his favorite picture of Milah, the first one he drew of her when he laid eyes on her, was sitting on his desk the whole time?

Bae’s words kept echoing in his mind… the knocks that turned into pounding on the door where he hid until sundown…

The captain ran his fingers over the parchment. He traced Bae’s flowing hair with the tips. Traced his nose… traced his jaw… traced the hands that held an unfinished image of an unfinished man… traced the lips that he’d never kiss again…

The last traces of Killian’s happiness was gone.

 _“I never knew…”_ he continued to breathe. _“I never knew I loved you like this… I loved you… I **love** you….”_

He would have said anything, would have told Baelfire anything he’d wanted to hear… except for this.

The pirate couldn’t bring himself to do it when all he saw was such total betrayal in his lover’s face. If only he’d just… swallowed whatever it was keeping the words down…

_“You hated my father so much, you didn't even realize you were just like him!”_

“Aye, Baelfire…” he said aloud, though it was nothing but a meager bit of sound. “Coward, I’m… I’m a coward…”

Before the candlelight could flicker aimlessly again, Killian had overturned the chair and thrown the brandy glass to the wall, shattering it into a million pieces. _“AYE! I AM A COWARD!”_ he shouted at the image. It fluttered from the movement and shifted a few paces to the right, touching the boy’s own drawing and settling down against it. The man picked up the image of himself with a shaking hand.

The portrayal of him was filled with such love and hope… a kind of understanding only the two of them could share. It was so honest, and highlighted each of the captain’s imperfections and flaws, despite the care and attention… But it was only now that Killian noticed it.

Bae had drawn Killian with his eyes closed, turned away from the artist like he was ashamed. He looked down at his own portrait of his beloved, and saw Bae’s eyes coyly staring straight at him under half-closed lids, with a kind of trust he didn’t deserve.

Numbly, he took Bae’s drawing and kicked the shattered glass to the side, making his way to the safe. He turned the combination lock, and opened the door.

Everything that was most precious to him was in this safe. From a ring his mother owned, to his brother’s spyglass, to his very first compass. Wedged between the wall of the safe and a few other items was Milah’s sketchbook. Killian brought it out and turned to the very last page.

He was looking into a distorted, broken mirror when he saw Milah’s picture. The former man in that image was smiling, looking directly at the viewer with cunning, persuasive eyes that drew one in. A different man had posed for this drawing… If Killian Jones was anyone now, it was the man Bae had seen, through caring eyes.

Killian placed Bae’s image next to Milah’s and closed the book, placing it back in the safe gently and locking the door.

On his desk now lay Milah’s discarded, wrinkled picture next to the crispness of Bae’s face. This image had been his undoing… It was nothing but a relic to remember a love that he’d lost, but never…

Without hesitation, Killian took Milah’s face and held it above the candle. Almost immediately it caught fire, and the captain walked atop the cracked glass and listened to it grind more as he opened the window.

He let the paper fly, flaming... into the sea.

The next morning the glass was gone, the chair was righted, and Baelfire’s picture was lodged in a frame on his desk. The captain knew Mister Smee had done this… perhaps to make up for the things he said about the boy. But it didn’t matter… the fact still remained that it was the next day, and there would be so many next days after that… Next days where he couldn’t kiss Bae, couldn’t teach Bae, couldn’t see or be with Bae…

And he would never be able to tell him he loved him.

Killian looked out at the window, to the calm Neverland seas.

He would never draw Baelfire-- or anyone for that matter-- again.

 


End file.
